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would be a nice change for them. I’ll make barbeque. Won’t that be nice?”
    “Maybe . . .”
    Lovie kept her silence.
    “All right, you go ahead,” he said summarily. “I’ll manage here for a few days and come out later.”
    He looked her way. “You know, it’s not a bad idea to bring the Porters, too. You’ll be leaving Vivian, of course?”
    “Well . . . she was going to join us at the beach house next week as usual. Then she takes her vacation.”
    “She’ll have to change plans. I’ll need someone to look after me while you’re gone. Not only for this week, but later in the summer, too. I’ve got that trip to Europe in July, remember.”
    She did remember the trip. Six weeks across the Continent—and he did not invite her to accompany him for any leg of the trip.
    “Oh. And I may go to Japan.”
    “ Japan? ”
    He nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes gleaming. “That market is exploding now. There are a lot of opportunities. I want to get in there, and Bob Porter is my key to opening that door.”
    “Stratton, that’s wonderful! Imagine, Japan! I’d love to go there with you someday. Could I? It’s so exotic.”
    “Why, sure, honey. Not this trip, of course. This one is exploratory. Later, though. For sure.”
    Lovie felt a twinge of disappointment but shook it off. No wonder he was so preoccupied and terse tonight. Business always put him on edge. Perhaps she should postpone her trip to the beach house another week, she thought. If she could just help him a little more, he’d realize how valuable she was.
    Her guests were due to arrive soon and she couldn’t dwell. She’d discuss it with him later. “I’m going to say good night to the children now.” She paused, a hand on the doorknob. “Don’t you want to come along?”
    “I’ll come by later. I’ve got a few things to tend to before dinner. Oh, that reminds me. I’ll be going to the club with the boys after dinner.”
    Lovie felt her face heat with the sudden flare of suspicion that he would not be going to the club with the boys but with one particular woman. Gwendolyn Archer was an overprimped, underappreciated wife of a well-known Charleston lawyer. Charleston was a small town, and gossip flew fast.
    “Careful there,” she said, eyes on the floor. Then, lifting them, she determinedly sought his gaze. “Don’t drink too much.”
    Stratton’s eyes blazed and he growled out, “What are you implying? I’ll drink as much as I damn well please.”
    Lovie tightened her lips, feeling slapped. She turned and, without another word, left the room. She held her shoulders tight as she walked down the hall to her children’s rooms. She heard the high note of excitement in their laughter, anticipating their trip in the morning. Their innocent joy brought a smile to her face. Tonight, she would do her duty and play hostess at her husband’s business dinner. She would be gracious to Jeanne Porter—for that was her name—tidy the house afterward, and dismiss the hired staff. Tomorrow morning she would rise at dawn, tuck her children into the car, bid farewell to her husband.
    Then come hell or high water, she would escape to the beach house.
    The red-and-white Buick station wagon made its unhurried way under cloudless skies out of the city of Charleston toward the sea. It drove low to the ground, loaded down with overpacked suitcases, an odd assortment of dishes, books, and paint supplies, brown paper bags filled with groceries, coolers, and chatting away in the backseat, her two children.
    Lovie glanced from time to time in the rearview mirror. Palmer was thirteen but apparently not too old to refrain from mercilessly teasing ten-year-old Cara, who was crouched in the corner, back to her brother, obstinately trying to read. Palmer was complaining how she always had her nose stuck in a book. Lovie sighed and held her tongue, choosing her battles. In the city, her children were always testy with each other, quarreling over